Hiding My Heart
by Tinsadisaster
Summary: Albus Dumbledore says Hermione's story isn't over yet. He was right. HG/DM
1. It's Not Over Yet

**Hiding My Heart **

By Tinsadisaster

**Summary: **Dumbledore says Hermione's story isn't over yet. He was right. HG/DM

**Author's Note:**

You know when you have sudden bouts of inspiration to write? For example, you're in shower, lathering your hair and then suddenly, it happens? Well, that hasn't happened for months for my other stories. Though I desperately want to complete them, the inspiration just isn't there.

However, as I was studying for an anatomy quiz this early Monday morning, something popped into my head and this is the result.

This will be a short story, less than ten chapters at the most. You might be able to tell, but it focuses on Hermione Granger and the status of her life post-War.

And like the majority of my stories, she ends up with Draco, maybe.

So don't expect too much, but expect just enough to be entertaining. It's a curious story, to say the least.

And also, please review!

* * *

So this is how the story went

I met someone by accident

Who blew me away

Who blew me away

_Brandie Carlisle_

_

* * *

_**Chapter I: Words From A Dead Man**

"I've had enough trouble for a lifetime," Harry said, pocketing the Elder Wand. I nodded, moving slightly to grab his hand and give it a friendly squeeze.

"You've made the right decision, Harry," I said, smiling at my best friend.

"Hermione, I don't want to be a killjoy but do you mind if I skip out on the celebration and head up to bed? I feel like death," he joked, laughing weakly.

I pushed him towards the door, insisting that he go straight to the dorms, or what was left of it. He walked out like a zombie.

"I should probably go check up on mum and them," Ron stammered.

It had only been hours since he lost a brother. I could understand his need to see to his family. We danced around each other awkwardly in a tangle of arms and shuffled feet, before finally landing into each other's arms. He was dirty and smelled a bit like sweat and blood, but he was warm and very much _alive_.

I couldn't be any happier. After a few beats, he disengaged from our embrace. He leaned down quickly to kiss my cheek and ran off.

His footsteps echoed and disappeared in time.

I felt a wave of exhaustion hit me. After years of trying to save Harry's life from Lord Voldemort, months of searching for Horcruxes, and the grueling hours of the Battle at Hogwarts, I could finally breathe.

I dragged my weary body to Professor Dumbledore's desk and dropped like a bag of bones onto his cushioned seat. I felt something dig into my skin and reached behind to remove it. My fingers grabbed the edges of what felt like a book, and with some effort, I moved the object onto the desk. _The Tales of Beedle The Bard_ stared back at me.

"Miss Granger, I do hope my present turned out to be quite a read," Professor Dumbledore's voice rang out. I turned to his portrait, having almost forgotten that he was still there.

"Yes, Professor, it really was. Who would've known that a fairy tale would save us all?"

"The story isn't over yet, Miss Granger," he said keenly, with that ever present twinkle in his eyes.

"What do you mean, Professor? Isn't it? Harry killed Lord Voldemort. The Light Side has won the war. Harry's still alive!"

"What I meant to say was, Miss Granger, the story isn't over yet… _for you_."

"Wait. What do you - " I started to ask, before realizing that Professor Dumbledore had already left his portrait. I let out a frustrated breath before sinking lower into the seat. The wounds and injuries I received during the battle were finally starting to reveal themselves, in dull yet painful waves.

_The story isn't over yet… for you._

"What is that old man on about?" I asked myself. I could feel my eyelids slowly closing. I nearly fell asleep, but someone walked into the office before I could.

Dirty black robes, stormy gray eyes, and the distinct blonde hair. I jumped out of the seat. All instances of fatigue were gone. My body was in ready-to-attack mode.

The last time I was in close proximity with this wizard, I had been writhing on his living room floor because his deranged aunt was torturing me. It was an unpleasant memory to say the least.

"What do you want, Malfoy?" I yelled, reaching for my wand.

He was alone. I could swear he was with his parents in the Great Hall, along with the other families. I wondered if his father was near. Though I merely disliked Draco, I feared his father.

"I was looking for Snape, Granger. Put your wand away. I am unarmed," he stated.

"As you can see, he isn't here. So leave, Malfoy." My wand was still in my hand, but I slowly put it back into my back pocket. I could not trust his word.

"This is his office. Obviously, I would look here. The better question is why are you here, and especially alone? Did Potter and Weasel go off to celebrate with their whores? But then that wouldn't make sense, would it, considering you are Weasel's whore. Normally, I would say that is such a disgrace, but from your stance, it's actually an improvement."

"You made your point, Malfoy. Snape's not here. Move along."

"Why would you risk being alone? Just because the battle is over, doesn't mean there aren't bad guys roaming this castle, waiting to get revenge," he stated, reaching into his cloak pocket.

My eyes caught the sudden movement, and my hands flew to my wand automatically.

I did not survive the War to die by the hands of this boy.

The words came out of my mouth before I could stop myself. I watched Draco fly into a bookcase and drop with a thud to the ground, taking a few heavy books to his bleach blonde skull.

"Bloody hell, Granger! I told you I was unarmed! Are you mad?" yelled Draco.

"You were reaching into your pocket! I am not stupid, Malfoy." At this point, I knew I could not risk staying. If Malfoy had a wand, I was the prime target for his wrath. If he was telling the truth and was unarmed, his father could still be a few seconds away and I would be a dead Mudblood, to put in their terms.

I ran out of the room and navigated my way through the castle, back to the Gryffindor common room, where I assumed Harry and Ron would be. I was received by a party of people, mostly Gryffindors and some other familiar faces. I couldn't find Harry or Ron.

I asked Dean, who pointed to a dark corner where I saw Harry exchanging soft words and hard kisses with Ginny, whose red eyes spelled grief for her fallen brother. I resisted the urge to walk over to them and scold Harry for not going to bed, but even I could not take this special moment from them.

I asked a few other people if they had seen Ron. Lavender glared at me but I walked away before I did any damage to her. We still hadn't settled our differences about the red-headed boy.

Just then, Ron burst into the room, carrying a few bottles in his hands. The room roared and soon, the bottles were being passed around. When Ginny passed the bottle to me, I paused. Ron looked at me, ready to rag on me for being a wet blanket at the party.

I knew this, so I did the unexpected.

I put my lips to the bottle and felt the Firewhiskey slither down my throat, leaving a disgusting and fiery trail before pooling into my stomach, creating a reassurring warmth at my core. Ron laughed, put his arms around me, and loudly announced, "That's my girl!"

I took one or two more swigs before handing it over to someone else. I turned into Ron's hug. I dug my fingers into his back and held onto him tightly. The alcohol had hit me quickly, probably because I hadn't eaten much and I was an incredible lightweight.

Ron's arms engulfed me and we exchanged a few sloppy kisses. His lips felt amazing against mine, and my heart climbed into my throat. I could barely hear the joking taunts around us claiming that we should "get a room".

No. We just saved the magical world. We deserved this public display of intoxicated affection.

"I'm so glad you're still alive, Mione," Ron whispered into my ear. I moved my hands to encircle his neck and lifted myself up on my toes. I slurred that I was glad he was alive too.

My cheeks felt warm, like the rest of my body. Ron dragged us both to a small corner, away from the rowdy party.

My mind wandered to the nights after he had abandoned Harry and I. I remember feeling sad, wondering if I'd ever see him again. I remember Harry doing his hardest to make me smile, even resorting to dancing even though we both knew Harry was as much a dancer as I was a Pureblood.

This was my happy ending, right? We're all alive. We've got each other.

Still, as I clung to Ron like a vine, those words I heard from the portrait of my dead professor came back to me.

_The story isn't over yet … for you._

And along with those words, I thought of the boy lying in a pool of dusty textbooks, the boy with stormy gray eyes.

"Oh no!"

I pulled myself away from Ron and stood up, startled at my discovery.

"What's wrong, Mione?"

"Ron, I forgot the book!"

Ron looked at me with a dumb face and said, frustratingly, "You're worried about a _book_ right now? Seriously, Hermione, you need to set your priorities straight. You always bark at me for it, but it's time you take your own advice. Harry just saved the magical world. We're drunk and we were having a good time. Why think of _books_?"

"It wasn't just _any _book, Ron. It was the book that Professor Dumbledore gave me. It was the book that saved our lives."

"It's probably just where you last left it."

"You're right. It's probably just in Professor Dumbledore's office," I stated calmly, masking the horror that I was feeling beneath the surface.

"Well, do you want to fetch it?" Ron asked, annoyed.

"Yes, there's something really important in there," I said. Ron grabbed my hand and we walked back into the party and out the door. I ignored the "Ooo's" and "Remember to cast a protection spell!" and "Weasley is our King!" remarks as we retraced our steps back to the office.

Fortunately, Malfoy was gone. The scattered textbooks on the ground were a quiet reminder that he had been there.

I ran towards the desk.

"Oh no!"

"What, Mione? What's wrong?"

"It's not there!"

I crumpled onto the ground. Ron immediately came to my side.

"It's just a book, Mione. It doesn't have legs. It's probably somewhere in the office."

I tried to laugh at Ron's attempts to console me. It came out more like a choking gasp.

He was right. Books don't have legs, but gits with blonde hair and stormy gray eyes and sticky fingers did.

"Besides, what was so important about it anyways, Mione? I mean, it served its purpose. If anything, it's an artifact."

I shook my head, tears spilling from the corner of my eyes.

The last connection I had with my parents was hidden in that book.

And now Malfoy had it.

_The story isn't over yet… for you._


	2. Don't You Remember?

**Hiding My Heart**

Tinsadisaster

**Summary: **Dumbledore says Hermione's story isn't over yet. He was right. HG/DM

**Author's Note:**

I should've been sleeping, but I took about five hours typing up this chapter. It's a bit weak and melodramatic, but damn it, that's how it turned out. Besides, I like it.

I promise Draco will have a bigger part in the next chapter.

Enjoy! I'll surely be editing mistakes as soon as I see them or if reviewers see them.

**Hate it. Love it. Just review it.

* * *

**

When was the last time you thought of me?

Or have you completely erased me from your memory?

I often think about where I went wrong,

The more I do, the less I know,

_Adele

* * *

_

**HERMIONE**

There are time and places for revealing secrets. There are certain people who are worthy of your secrets. Ron and Harry are these people to me. Our friendship has been a huge adventure from the very start, but had I the choice to go back to the beginning I would still choose to walk into their train compartment asking about a lost toad. Instead of leaving after their initial rejection, like any sane person would have done, I would still take a seat without asking for permission.

I must have done something right. Eventually, I earned my spot and I didn't have to leave.

Friendship, to put it simply, is just that. It's entering someone's world and finding a spot in their heart and mind, a place where you aren't asked to leave, and most importantly it's the feeling that you don't want to leave.

There were moments where I thought I'd lose them. I lost Harry to his emotions, during the most stressful hours of his life at Hogwarts and during the Horcrux Hunt. I lost Ron when he ran off with Lavendar and once again when left Harry and I on our journey, but fate brought him back to me both times.

I figure, if someone comes back, he's yours to keep, right? But people have to come back in the right form.

When I saw Hagrid carrying Harry's body towards the castle, I wanted to rejoice - he was alive. Upon closer observation, my nightmares became a reality. He was limp, lifeless, and bloody.

Someone screamed. I think it was me. Something snapped inside.

You know when something really horrible happens and the world ceases to exist? Everything starts to blur and you can only hear yourself breathing, your heart beating, and you feel the ground beneath you fall away?

It was like that.

My soul ripped down the middle.

…

Well, that was how I felt when I realized Malfoy stole my book. Like a part of me was damaged beyond repair. Like I lost something that I needed to exist.

I've told Harry, more than Ron, secrets about my Muggle life that no one else knows. We exchanged stories about magical mishaps involving family members who deemed us freaks. We told each other about people we liked back in the Muggle world. During those nights in that tent, we whispered our fears and insecurities to each other.

I told Harry about my parents. Ron left before I could gather the courage to spill the secret. I told Harry that I erased their memories to protect them, or at least certain parts of their memories, all of which involving my existence.

What I didn't tell Harry was that I didn't have everything under control. After performing the spell, the consequences of my decision finally sunk in. In my attempt to keep them alive, I killed myself in their minds.

My parents knew something dark and dangerous was happening in the magical world. They were scared for me, begging me to turn my back on Harry and Ron and everyone else. All they wanted was their daughter, but I couldn't give them that, not even that.

It took weeks to prepare for what I had to do. Using magic and Muggle resources, I forged fake documents, birth certificates, passports, and identification cards for them. This was the easy part. The worst was to come.

One evening, after dinner, I climbed up the stairs and went to my room. They were in the living room, talking over tea. I pulled my wand from beneath my pillow and tucked it neatly into my back pocket.

The tears started forming before my foot landed on the first step. The floor creaked as I shifted from foot to foot, making my slow descent down the stairs. They were laughing about a young boy from the dental office who, after a standard procedure using novacaine, roared like a dinosaur in his semi-lucid state.

Soon, I was standing behind them. I was trembling.

I knew that if I didn't do it then, I could never gather enough courage to attempt it again. It was like looking down at the waters below before taking a leap off a bridge. I wanted them to stop me, but nothing they could have done would have changed my mind.

I also knew that if I was not the one to do just this, someone else would do worse. Voldemort and his followers would find them and torture them until they begged for death. He would have dangled their lives over my head, forcing Harry to give up by default. I would lose everyone that way, so in the end, I decided to lose myself, as I was to them - for the time being.

Without warning, I performed the spell. Their backs were to me - I couldn't stand seeing their faces. Only half an hour ago, we were talking about Hogwarts and graduation and my future. Now they knew nothing of me - in their ignorance, they were safer.

The spell didn't take too long. When they looked at me over their shoulders, part of me wished that I performed the spell incorrectly, that I could press a reset button and take it all back.

"Who are you? What are you doing in our home? Explain yourself!" my father yelled at me, rising from the couch, treating me like he didn't know me.

"Mum, dad," I whispered, frantic. Tears were pouring down my face. This was the harsh reality I chose for all of us.

_Leave them, Hermione. This is what you wanted. _

"Get out of our home now or else I'll call the police! Get out!"

_Like they don't know who you are._

I ran up the stairs and into my room, picking up the bag that I prepared for my departure. I looked around at the place where I grew up from a confused little girl to a confused adolescent and now to a stranger on the run. My heart ached to take something with me, as a reminder that there was still something to come home to.

They banged at the door. My father yelled at my mother to get the phone while he twisted the knob. I locked it with a spell after I entered the room. However, I hadn't planned my exit so well. I thought I could walk through the front door, but that was unrealistic now.

My eyes flew to the moving picture on my bedside table. It was a gift from a friend from Hogwarts, one who I ended up losing by the end of the War.

When I was naïve and in love with Gilderoy Lockhart, I convinced my parents to come with me to his book signing at Flourish & Blotts. While we there, we had the misfortune of running into the Malfoys. However, before this nasty encounter occurred, Colin Creevey snapped a candid photo of my parents and I. In the photo, my parents observed the strange new world around them, amazed by the hustle and bustle of the wizarding folk, while I looked up at them, smiling, as if telepathically saying "_This is what I wanted to share with you. Isn't it magical?_"

They held me close, with their hands on my shoulders, because even though they were amazed, they were still scared. This was the world in which they didn't belong, in which they were asked to leave, in more or less words by Lucius Malfoy. This was also the moment they realized I was no longer theirs to keep.

I grabbed the frame that held the specific photo.

Since I was eleven, I was slowly being pulled away. How could they explain to relatives why I wasn't around for family parties? Didn't the neighbors ask where I went off to in the fall? What kind of parents would send their only child to a boarding school so private they didn't know where it was?

I guess now it would be easier. No more prodding questions from curious bystanders. No strange daughter to speak of, to spark such interest.

Of course, I didn't perform this spell without some research. I loved my parents too much to boggle their minds up in a damaging way. I wanted them to live, even if it was without me. _I wanted them to live._

The books I read told me that it was risky, that brain damage was almost always a result of such spell casting. I was reminded of Harry and Ron and the now loopy Gilderoy Lockhart. I was also reminded that I had never performed the spell before. It made me backtrack, forced me to reconsider other options.

But once I whispered "_Obliviate_", my decision was set. I chose life for them.

Eventually, my father broke the door open. He stumbled into the room, with my mother right behind. She was on the phone, informing the police that there was a thief in their home, that the intruder was probably on drugs, and that the authorities needed to get there as soon as possible.

Now, for the final act.

There are certain spells I never thought I'd perform, especially on my parents. An Unforgivable is definitely high on that list.

"_Imperio_."

My parents stood before me with dull eyes. The phone fell from my mother's hands. I could hear the voice on the other end asking what happened. After a few seconds of no response, the call ended with a click.

"Listen to me. You will follow my instructions. You no longer are… are the Grangers." My voice threatened to fail here. "Your new identities are printed on the documents I've placed in the manila envelope in your study. You will leave this place and move far away, but you cannot let me know where."

My parents nodded dumbly.

"Pack what you need and leave as soon as possible. Don't look back."

I wanted to hug them, but they wouldn't feel it. The Unforgivable was zapping me of my energy. I could only wonder what it was doing to them.

I was choking on my words. The most painful part was next. I had to go.

"You don't have a daughter. If anyone asks, correct them. You don't know a Hermione Granger. You've never heard the name before. Any memory you ever had in this life regarding the name never existed. Do you understand me?"

They nodded. I imagined little strings pulling on their heads, making them nod. It hurt to know that the person controlling those strings was _me._

"And finally, please know that I love you and that I did this all for you. I'll come back for you, I promise." It was my lame attempt at goodbye.

I dropped my wand to my side and waited. I needed to know that the spell worked.

The mist before their eyes disappeared. They came to. _They disappeared._

Now we were all strangers to each other.

"Didn't we tell you to leave? What are you still doing here? And what's that in your hand?" the man who used to be my father hollered. He tried to swipe at the frame.

I pushed past them, throwing a stinging spell when they proved too strong of a barricade, and flew down the stairs, saying over and over again that I was sorry and I would fix it all one day.

I ended up walking out the front door that night, but I couldn't say for sure if I would ever be welcomed back as I was before - as their daughter, their family - or if I'd come back alive at all.

On my way out, I dropped the photo frame. The glass shattered and I cursed, pricking my fingers as I attempted to pick up the photo. Blood smeared onto the edges of the photo, turning reddish brown on the material.

Better it was my blood spilled than theirs, I reasoned.

* * *

The painful thought I've carried since that night is if what I did was enough to protect them. I've made no attempt to contact them. In fact, I don't know if they still live in the same home. If I performed the spells as perfectly as I calculated, they are probably elsewhere, with different names but the same faces. I kept their faces the same so that I'd know them if I so happen to find them again.

Perhaps it was unfair. Maybe they should've had a say in the way things went, but in the grand scheme of things, I was doing the right thing.

But things have changed again. Now that Harry's almost lifelong battle with Voldemort is over, I have a new plan - to give back what I took away from my parents.

There was only one tiny setback: Draco Malfoy.

After I discovered Malfoy stole the only memento of my parents, tucked into the pages of the book that Albus Dumbledore gave me, I was inconsolable. The only physical evidence I owned that they were my parents was in the hands of a Death Eater's son. When I tried to tell this to Ron, he was just lost and confused and kept muttering that I shouldn't have drunk so much. Every time I started to explain, I couldn't finish. Liquor and heartache refused to let me be coherent. Eventually, he took me back to the Gryffindor dorms. By then, the party had died down.

The Aurors escorted Harry, Ron, and I back to the Burrow sometime later that night. The Order was awfully grateful for everything we had done, but they felt we weren't safe in Hogwarts, especially when its defenses were blasted and Death Eaters were running about. Leaving Hogwarts was like leaving home for a second time.

Molly suffocated us with hugs when we walked into her kitchen. She held onto Ron the longest, whispering lovely things into his ear. Harry excused himself, saying he was tired and needed sleep. I followed him up to Ron's room. I closed the door behind me.

"Harry, I need to speak with you."

"Mione, can we save this for later? I feel like death."

"It's important. I need to go."

Harry turned around when I said this.

"What do you mean, go? But we just got here."

I shook my head. How could I explain this?

"No, no, Harry. I _have_ to go. I have something to do. I've got to find them."

"Find who? Seriously Mione, I think you need this bed more than I do. You're acting a bit loony."

"My parents - I've got to make sure they're okay." Harry looked at me like I was crazy. I wasn't making sense. I couldn't blame him.

He grabbed my hands and forced me to sit down on the bed besides him. He stared into my eyes and told me to just relax.

"I can't let you go in this state," he said. I started to object, but he shut me up.

"I know how much you've given up for me, Mione. An ordinary life. A boring life without death pawing at your feet every second. Your parents. I am eternally grateful … for _everything_."

"Then let me go, Harry. Let me find them."

Harry raised his hands to hold the sides of my head. He kissed my forehead affectionately, before pulling my face close.

"I promise I will help you find your parents. For all you've done for me, I will do this much for you," he whispered. The angles of my mouth lifted, forming a genuine smile.

"Thank you Harry! You don't understand how much this means to me. I've done so many bad things. I don't think I can take them back," I replied gratefully.

"Hermione Granger doing bad things? We aren't in some alternate universe, are we? The Hermione I know is incapable of doing bad."

_If you only knew everything, you'd reconsider._

"But promise me one thing, Hermione."

"Anything, Harry."

"Don't leave without me. Can you do that for me? I can't have you disappearing in the morning. I'll track you down myself, if I have to."

He spoke to me like a father would a child. I should've been insulted, but instead I was comforted. It felt nice to know there was some sort of safety net ready to catch me when I needed it. The transition between adolescence and adulthood was short for me - the War made it impossible to stay young, but in Harry's hands, in that instance, I was.

"You have my word, Harry."

One last kiss on the forehead. He pulled away, breaking contact.

"Go to sleep, Mione. You look worse than I do, and I just fought the darkest wizard of our time."

I hugged Harry, greeted him goodnight, and left the room. On my way down the stairs to Ginny's room, I saw a mass of red hair gathered in a circle. Intrigued, I craned my head over the railing to see what was going on.

The remaining Weasleys were having a private moment. Molly and Arthur were leading what seemed to be a prayer.

"Let the souls lost today, yesterday, and each day before, find peace. In memory of our fallen loved ones, we will live … for Fred, we live."

Someone wailed and their circle tightened. They were all hugging each other. I suddenly felt cold.

"It's going to be alright," Arthur said repeatedly. "Everything will be okay."

I pushed away from the railing and returned up the stairs to Ron's room.

"Harry?" I called out in the dark.

"Yes?"

The raven-haired boy was lying in one of the beds in the room, staring at the ceiling. His glasses were tucked away neatly on a nearby table.

"Can I stay with you tonight? I can't stand feeling alone like this."

Harry nodded, scooting over even though there was barely enough room for him.

We looked up at the ceiling together.

"It's over, Hermione. It's really over."

_Not yet, Harry, not for me._


End file.
